


The Unexplainable and the Supernatural

by Crowley_KingOfHell



Series: Supernatural One Shots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Smut, Supernatural Drabbles, hunters and angels, i miss the bunker okay, no specific timeline, one shots, the bunker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowley_KingOfHell/pseuds/Crowley_KingOfHell
Summary: Standard issue Destiel first time smut, now with free fluff!





	The Unexplainable and the Supernatural

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome shippers!  
> 

Muffled rock and roll echoed through a sprawling junkyard, rays of setting sun splitting through the forest surrounding. One lone orange light illuminated the quickly darkening car lot, hung on the hood of glossy black impala as it's owner bent down to inspect the engine. White tank top soaked in sweat, Dean grabbed a beer from a cooler behind him, guzzling half in one gulp. Baby really didn't need any work done, but here he had been for the last several hours, toiling away at his beloved vehicle. He had cleaned her, inside and out, rotated her tires, changed her oil, all the basic stuff he usually didn't have time to keep up with on the road. It wasn't the necessity of the work, but the energy it consumed that Dean enjoyed, especially in situations like this, where he needs to work off the stress that accumulated inside him. 

Today had been one of those days that started off full of promise, but quickly fell to the wayside. After finally discovering the location of a safe house they urgently needed to conquer, Dean and Sam had decided to call upon Castiel to assist them. The brothers had already gathered all the supplies they would need to lay siege to the base and prayed for Castiel to come speak with them. They waited for hours for him to show, he never did. The next day Dean had sat outside of the garage in a lawn chair, holding a bottle of whiskey, and told Castiel exactly what he could go do to himself. It had been a long time since Dean had been this angry at his angel. But today was different, today Dean wasn't mad. He wasn't even disappointed. At this point, Dean was _hurt_. So here was, in a small collected junk yard he'd been growing since he and Sammy had found the bunker, working on his car to distract his thoughts.

No, today was different, today Dean didn't pray at all, not once. He thought about it many times, but each time shoved the thought away with a cold heart. Tomorrow Dean and Sam would be going head first into hell, and Castiel seemed to care less. Dean knew if Castiel didn't show that he and Sam would figure it out, but ever since he'd first met the awkward angel Dean had wanted to be able to count on him. He wanted to call on Castiel and _know_ he would come through, but for far too long it seemed none of them could count on any of each other. At this point it was every man for himself, Dean thought with a sigh as he titled his beer back to finish it off. 

A few yards away, just within the line of trees, stood a nervous angel, shuffling his wings under his trench coat. Truth be told Castiel had been too nervous to be honest with Dean, his situation was unusual, and for the angel himself, slightly terrifying. He'd found himself nearly powerless, for no discernable reason, and has been slipping from safe house to safe house, all the while hearing Dean's pleas for back up and agonizing over how to tell his best friend that he was no more threatening at this point than an angry ferret. As Castiel stalled for time, steeling his courage, he watched Dean work on his car, moving methodically, with confidence, here Dean was in his element. Sighing, Castiel disappeared, reappearing only feet away from Dean, who recognized the quiet flutter of wings immediately, but didn't turn around. 

Dean reached into the cooler once more and withdrew two bottles, handing one to Castiel without looking at him, before then opening his own. He returned to his work on Baby, setting his already half empty bottle on the edge of the front bumper where it leaned precariously. Castiel stood, unopened beer sweating in his hand as he waited. He knew Dean would unload on him when he was ready. "Where ya been, man?" Was not the opening line Castiel expected, hesitating before answering vaguely, "I've been everywhere. Jerusalem, Varanasi, Jakarta, Salem..." Dean looked up at him, brow furrowed, at the last location. "Are you huntin' witches at a time like this?" He asked with a confused and disbelieving tone. Castiel knew he should take the offered excuse and run with it, spin some elaborate story as the brothers would, about hunting some big bad witch for whatever slightly related reason. But that was what the brothers would do, and as Castiel had spent years realizing and eventually accepting, he was not one of them, and he was certainly not a good liar. 

Under Dean's piercing stare, Castiel folded, "I was seeking help." He admitted finally. Dean leaned back on Baby and set his tools down, "You need help? With what?" He crossed his arms. Castiel found a single stack of crushed cars in the distance to stare at as he chose his words delicately. "I have not been able to tap into my grace's power the way I should be able to." He didn't really know why he was being coy, Dean would see right through him and he knew it. Both Dean and Sam knew Castiel too well to not recognize the warning signs, but Dean had an affinity for catching people's tells. "So...you're what, then? Angelically constipated?" His face looked disbelieving. "I don't expect you to understand the complexities of-" Castiel started, trying to get traction with his cryptic explanation, but Dean cut him off. "Look man, if you don't want to be a part of what's going down tomorrow that's fine, but have the stones to tell me the truth when you decide to chicken out, alright?" 

Dean pushed himself off leaning against Baby to grab his beer and finish it before picking up a socket wrench and returning to his previous task. Castiel frowned, "I'm not here to 'chicken out' as you so elegantly put it. I'm telling you I can't help you because I can't fight." He recalled Dean's remarks from what felt now like decades ago, 'a baby in a trench coat', Dean had called him. "You lost your mojo again?" Dean asked from under the hood. Castiel rolled his eyes, this man was the master of over simplifying things. "Essentially, yes, that is what I'm telling you." Ever the optimist, Dean pressed, "Then how do we get it back?" Castiel knew Dean would push until he got the full truth out of him, purposefully or not, and Castiel was not yet prepared to out himself, "I've been considering yoga." He replied, wearing his usual stoic visage to abate his laughter. Dean stood up and turned to look at him, "Yoga? Really, dude?" 

It was obvious Castiel wasn't showing all of his cards and this made Dean incredibly unsettled. Every time, without fail, that Castiel had kept information to himself he had endangered the group, and this time he wasn't having it. "No, no see, you don't get to keep secrets, Cas. Not from us. Not from me." Dean wasn't sure why he'd added the last bit, but he continued, "Something has you all backed up and we need to take whatever _it_ is _head on_ , together, okay? So," Dean reached into the cooler for what he promised himself was his last beer, and waved a hand at Castiel to urge him to speak, "C'mon dude, out with it." Castiel shifted his weight, trying to figure out his best option of escape, but he knew all too well that if Dean didn't summon him back against his will, he would return on his own eventually anyway. He may as well get it over with, "How do you cope with the stress and sadness this lifestyle causes you?" 

Hesitating, Dean considered his answer, "Um, well, I guess my usual go-to's. Booze, babes and bacon." He laughed dryly. "What about when you're celebrating a victorious hunt?" Castiel added. "I'd probably give you the same answer. What's this about, Cas?" Dean crossed his arms and fixed the angel with a confused look. "What do you think I do?" Castiel concluded finally. Dean furrowed his brown and opened his mouth before closing it again and clearing his throat, "I, uh, I don't know, Cas. What _do_ you do?" He blinked, wondering if he really wanted the answer to that question. "That's my problem, Dean. I don't have anything. Nothing to help me unwind, or relax. I never understood what about day to day life that could stress a human so much they would seek comfort in trivial and indulgent things, like massages, drugs, or intercourse with mere acquaintances. I didn't understand what they described as tension until now, I'm so _tense_ , Dean. I feel as though I've taken the place of Atlas himself, shouldering the weight of the world." Castiel finally paused to take a breath, and realized he had started pacing.

Eyes full of concern, Dean uncrossed his arms and rested a hand on Castiel's shoulder, "Cas, if you're too stressed to fight then you're just too damn stressed. Do you know anything about self care?" He asked. Castiel thought for a moment, "I suppose it's self explanatory?" Dean laughed lightly, "Yeah, I guess it is. Look, let's go inside and talk to Sam about this, alright? I have a few ideas how to help but you know how he'll get if he isn't included and finds out later." Castiel nodded and allowed himself to be steered back to the bunker by the arm Dean threw around his shoulders.

Sam seemed more understanding than Dean, and spiraled off into a plethora of self care information he had gathered for himself while still in college. Dean sat across from the two at the kitchen table, watching Castiel confiding in Sam about his mental exhaustion and short temper as of late. It seemed Castiel's host was even experiencing symptoms of fatigue, Sam theorized Castiel being uniquely connected to the body he was brought back to life in that he would be more in sync with it physically and emotionally. Struggling to keep up, Dean tried to come up with a solution for his friend. His own self-medicating methods wouldn't work for someone as open hearted as Castiel, he'd need something truly soothing, healing. In stroke of brilliance, Dean remembered something John had asked Dean to help him with to surprise his mother. 

Mary had been grieving the anniversary of her mother's passing and was especially down one rainy weekday. She took Sammy to the grocery store but John offered to keep Dean so she only had one child to worry about, with an appreciative smile she nodded and left. John had then asked Dean to go through all the cabinets in the house and find every candle they owned. In the meantime, John searched their attic for forgotten wedding gifts, one of which was a basket of bath salts and oils. Running over the tub once with a scrubby sponge to clean it up, John filled the porcelain bath with steaming water, sprinkling in a few handfuls of what seemed like enough salt to him, he then poured a generous amount of lavender scented oil in as well. Behind him, Dean entered the doorway, tripping on his pajamas as he carried an armful of candles, "Here ya go, dad!" He said from behind the strongly scented mountain of wax. John chuckled and helped Dean set them around the tub, lighting each after opening the bathroom window slightly. Downstairs the front door opened and closed, "We're home!"

John met Mary at the stairs with Dean in tow, kissing her and then his son, "Hey, Sammy, wanna go watch tv with Dean and me?" He asked as he lifted the boy from his mother's hip and took him into his arms. Sammy nodded his head as he stirred from a nap, smiling as he rubbed his face in his sleeve. "John you don't have to," Mary started, but John shushed her. "I have a surprise for you in the bathroom," Her face fell, he laughed, "A good surprise!" She smiled nervously but kissed him and then Dean before heading up to the landing. John took the boys into the tv room and got them situated on the couch before Mary called down the stairs, "John Winchester, marry me again!" He smiled broadly, "Not if I have to ask your father again!" He laughed and she giggled, Dean remembers feeling so full of warmth back then.

Now here he was, trying to help the only other person in his life to make him feel close to the same way he did with his mother. As Sam went over Yoga positions and discussed starting Castiel in classes, Dean crept away to the bathroom, taking a look at what he had to work with. The room wasn't small, but it wasn't very clean either. The tub definitely needed some TLC, but it's grand size made it appear very welcoming. Spinning the knob for the hot water, Dean let the water flow to warm up as he scavenged cleaning utensils, scrubbing away dust and built up soap residue easily with a bristle brush and some bleach. After a good rinse to wash away the chemicals, Dean found some dusty, prehistoric looking bath soap bottles, and filled the tub with enormous mountains of bubbles. Candles were thankfully something they were in no short supply of, and they even had a few flowers to spare for spells they didn't use this hunt. Dean was damn proud of himself as he stepped back to appreciate his work.

Back in the kitchen, Sam and Castiel were talking comfortably over what smelled like Sam's favorite bourgie hot tea. Dean cleared his throat to get their attention, they ceased talking and turned to him, "Cas, I gotta borrow you for a second." He motioned for the angel to follow him. Castiel sat his teacup down and nodded to Sam before casting a slightly confused look at Dean. Jerking his head toward the corridor that lead to the bathroom, Dean followed Castiel to the candlelit room and presented it with a wave of his arm and a proud smile. "Mom always said bathes were her favorite way to relax when she was too stressed. I never really got why, but hey, if it's good enough for my mom-" Dean hesitated and looked at Castiel expectantly. Castiel felt his heart swell, Dean had done this for his mother, and now Dean was doing it for him, "Thank you, Dean." Smiling in return, to Castiel's enormous grin, Dean nodded and ducked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

He had only time enough to spin on his heel before he hesitated, something pulling him to stay. Glancing back at the door, Dean felt a nagging feeling telling him to sit and wait, so sit he did, against the door frame of the bathroom. He heard the rustling of Castiel's trench coat falling to the floor with a soft wump, followed by the slither and whip of his tie coming off. After a moment's silence, presumably spent unbuttoning his shirt, Dean heard the gentle clinking sounds of a belt being unbuckled, followed by the thunk of the belt and the pants they held falling to the floor. Another moments and then the quiet _splish_ of the water told Dean that Castiel had settled into the bath. He heard the angel sigh happily and he smiled. It felt good to finally be able to help his friend for once. So often they all failed at protecting and helping each other, they had to celebrate the small victories where they came. 

Letting his eyes fall shut as he enjoyed the warm scent of lavender and familiar notes of oak, Dean listened to the occasional lap of the water, or small hum of a sigh from the angel as he relaxed into the hot bath. Thoughts drifting into a summer night's daydream, Dean felt himself bathing in warm water, the same smell of oak mixed with the salt of the sea. He felt a presence in his company there, comfortable and assuring, it felt like lying back in someone's arms in the sunlight. He basked in this feeling, realizing himself how rare this small joy was for him. For what felt like hours, but in reality was only about twenty minutes, the two sat in mutual relaxation, before it was disrupted by a small, unassuming sound that would otherwise have been dismissed. However in this case, Dean was living within his day dream and heard the voice come from just behind his ear. A weak whimper, the context of which was in no way lost to Dean, that belonged to Castiel.

Sitting bolt upright, Dean felt the warmth at his back disappear like cold water had been dumped on him. Inside the bathroom the water slashed and slapped the floor. Dean stood suddenly and crept away from the door quickly, body in an over-relaxed state of confusion. He slipped into his bedroom and shut the door, flopping onto his bed and covering his face with a pillow. What the hell had just happened? After hearing his voice, Dean had realized it was Castiel he had felt like he was lying back against, and besides the immense sense of comfort he'd felt, there had also been a layer of arousal. The _sound_ , the sound Castiel had made had stirred something inside Dean, awoken a beast he'd thought he'd caged long ago. The beast had been born the day Dean had met Castiel, the crystal blue eyes confounding Dean.

Draining the water from the tub, draped in a towel and flannel robe, Castiel felt his happiness from the relaxing experience slipping away as he fretted over the idea of Dean overhearing him. Dean had disappeared immediately after the sound slipped from his lips. Quietly hiding away in his room Castiel sat on his bed and closed his eyes, humming to himself as he relaxed and let his mind drift. While he certainly had not intended to be overheard by Dean, Castiel couldn't deny the small thrill he got when reflecting on the idea. He still felt immense tension in his groin, unsatisfied from his small amount of relief earlier, he needed more, desperately. Castiel disrobed once more and settled himself into his mattress, spreading out his legs and resting his head on one arm. His free handed drifted south yet again and he allowed his thoughts to return to the bathroom, this time focusing on the image of Dean sitting against the door, listening to Castiel masturbate.

Dean was lying face down in his bed, head buried under a pillow as he tried to tune out the sound that was echoing in his ears as though being looped through speakers in his head. It was such a small, diffident gasp, yet it had nearly paralyzed Dean. Here the sound was again, encompassing his thoughts and lacing his blood with arousal as it pulsed through him at a swiftly increasing rate. Unable to stop himself, he thrust against his bed harshly, groaning angrily into his pillow, why must he have such an insatiable libido? Huffing as though personally affronted by his own erection, Dean sat up and buried his face in his hands. He had to talk to Castiel about this, Regardless of what Dean's body _thought_ it wanted, he and Castiel were friends. With so few of his loved ones left, Dean couldn't afford to lose another friend. Standing, he took a moment to irritably adjust his persisting stiffness, Dean entered the hall and made for the room of his best friend. 

As he raised his hand to knock, Dean felt a sense of deja vu, a quiet whispering of pants and small breaths were floating out from the other side of the door. Suddenly Dean felt himself a passenger in his body as he froze. Inside this room he knew what he would see, he could identify the sounds easily, picturing the scene he hadn't yet interrupted. His fingers wrapped around the polished door knob and twisted it slowly so as not to make any sound. Dean's brain insisted it was opening the door to make sure Castiel was okay, that there was a possibility that something was wrong and Dean needed to open the door to ensure all was well. But of course, Dean knew better, and despite knowing better he was still unable to stop himself. He pushed the door in quietly and stepped inside, glad to only be in his socks as he footfalls were cushioned with thick cotton. 

The scene before him was nearly more than he was prepared to handle. Dean had seen Castiel naked before, the angel's lacking understanding of personal boundaries and proper etiquette didn't leave much to the imagination. Still, Dean found himself speechless when he found himself staring, for the first time in his life, at an angel in the throes of passion, massive black wings draped over either side of the bed Castiel was sprawled on. His hand was feverishly pumping his swollen dick, his free arm thrown over his face to muffle his moans. Dean's erection throbbed in his pants stubbornly, his hand drifted down to give himself a strong squeeze as he watched. His mind was no longer consumed with making up excuses, his thoughts were entirely consumed with his view of the angel. Without conscious thought, Dean had freed himself from his denim imprisonment and had started roughly stroking himself to the image in front of him. 

Castiel bit into the flesh of his forearm as he stifled a loud groan, his orgasm barreling down on him like a freight train to a stalled car on it's track. Dropping the arm that covered his face, Castiel cried out as his wings stretched in ecstasy and his back arched. Dean had to lean against the door frame for support as he legs buckled beneath him, cumming into his hand as he watched Castiel coat his stomach in his own climax with a smoldering groan. Body relaxing, Castiel relaxed back into his pillows and sighed, opening his eyes to check the time, and seeing his bedroom door hanging open.

*

Mercifully, Sam had taken Castiel out the following day to try a hot yoga class, leaving Dean alone with his shame in the bunker. Originally, Dean had planned on having a pity party for the first half hour to hour of having the bunker to himself, but his body had other plans. Instead he had been forced to masturbate three different times, in his own bed, in the bathroom beside the tub Castiel had relaxed in the night before, and most brazenly, on Castiel's bed. The thrill of his orgasm's vicinity to Castiel's was more than Dean was able to fight, despite his own reservations on his confused sexuality, and he found his sexually frustrated mind coming up with truly terrible ideas. Perhaps he could 'accidently' stumble upon Castiel masturbating again and this time interrupt? Or maybe it would be more fun to have Castiel catch him in the act?

A fourth session began as Dean pulled his pajama pants down again, shirt having been long forgotten after the second time. Thoughts barely stringing together entire scenarios, Dean's mind raced with the idea that he was considering even admitting what he wanted. Hungrily picking up his pace, Dean couldn't keep his thoughts from running wild with the newest thought of Castiel leaning over him, wings spread as he buried himself deep inside, "Mmmf, fuck, _Cas_ ," Dean gasped as he inadvertently kicked a pillow off the couch he was occupying. Dean would later admit to half hoping his cry for help would work. It had. 

From an incredible distance, Castiel felt a powerful pull on his entire celestial being, but couldn't entirely pin down the cause. He could tell it was leading him back to the bunker, back to Dean, but still it didn't make sense. Dean wasn't in danger, or in pain, he wasn't even in minor discomfort. As a matter of fact, as Castiel focused on Dean's energy, he realized it felt like Dean was being overcome with pleasure. Furrowing his brow in confusion, Castiel didn't hear Sam ask if everything was alright, because a quiet whisper deafened him. A lusting plea from the other side of the city called to him, " _Cas_." And with the flutter of wings, he was gone.

He was home, standing at one end of the couch, watching Dean desperately jerking his leaking prick as a loud and clear string of "Cas, please," mingled with "oh, fuck" and strangled moans. Castiel clenched his jaw and shook out his wings, letting everything around him freeze, including his private performer. Castiel walked to the side of the couch where Dean lay and loosened his tie, grinning to himself. He unfroze time as he shrugged off his trench coat and let it fall to the floor with a soft thump. Dean sat bolt upright at the sound, looking up and realizing with horror who the intruder was. Before he could speak, Castiel grabbed the back of his head and pulled him for a kiss, catching the hunter so off guard that he sat frozen for a solid minute. More than enough time for Castiel to remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. When Dean finally thought to pull away, he decided not to. Sam wouldn't be home for a half hour at least, he'd take the risk.

Pulling Castiel's shirt, Dean pulled the angel onto his lap, deepening their kiss as his arms slid around Castiel's narrow waist. Dean ran his hands up Castiel's back to grasp his hair but were stopped halfway there by two enormous mounds of soft feathers. Dean was barely able to register his confusion when Castiel gasped sharply and dug his nails into the back of Dean's neck. Apparently he enjoyed that, Dean thought, glancing up at the wings that hovered just above them both before returning his focus to the kiss. He opened his mouth and coaxed the angel to do the same with a gentle flick of his tongue, wrapping his thumb and forefinger around the base of each of Castiel's wings and massaging slowly. Castiel quivered and melted against Dean as their tongues met. Castiel thrust his hips against Dean's at a slow and even pace, moaning pleasurably at each large circle traced into the muscles of his wings. 

Moving his hands to Castiel's button, the angel sighed at the lost warmth of Dean's hands, but leaned back to give room for Dean to release him. Standing up for only a moment, both men shed their pants and returned to their shared spot on the couch, appreciating the view of the other's body. Castiel's erection rubbed lightly against Dean's and the hunter groaned and pressed his hips up to meet the warm and smooth skin that pulsated for his touch. Rolling his hips in excitement, Castiel whimpered and panted, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck as he relinquished control. Dean brushed his lips against Castiel's neck, jaw and ear lobe, nibbling and licking before he finally found a bit of flesh that caused Castiel to arch his back when touched. Dean chuckled into his shoulder before placing a carefully measured bite into the skin between it and the angel's jaw. Castiel's nails sank into his shoulders and Dean felt teeth on his own shoulder, failing to stifle a weak moan. 

Dean stuck his index and middle fingers into his mouth, soaking them in saliva, before moved them behind Castiel. Hesitating, Dean leaned back and looked at Castiel, "Are you ready to get started?" He asked in a hoarse whisper. Castiel nodded silently. Dean gingerly began working his first finger in, using his free hand to massage Castiel's wings one at a time. After a few minutes, Dean added a second finger, Castiel going quiet for a moment. "You okay?" Dean whispered through small kisses across Castiel's chest. He nodded slowly, Dean inserted his second finger up to his knuckle and returned to pumping them in and out, but Castiel was growing impatient, "I don't want to wait anymore." Dean chuckled appreciatively, "Just enjoy the anticipation. I don't want to hurt you, Cas." Cas rolled a ravenous thrust of his hips against Dean's neglected dick, causing him to mewl pathetically.

Unwilling to wait, Cas thrust against him, losing himself briefly in the sensation of their swelling members shared heat. Again and again, Cas grinded their hips together, until Dean was painfully erect once more. He leaned up and positioned himself carefully before sitting down, slowly pushing Dean's throbbing cock into his tight ass. Castiel's head fell back, his grip on Dean's shoulders the only thing preventing him from toppling backward off the couch, he began moving his hips, thrusting himself up and down. "Cas," Dean interrupted himself with a hiss at the sudden pleasure The swollen head of Dean's dick found it's way to Castiel's sweet spot with every single thrust, numbing the angel of all else besides the deep and penetrating pleasure of finally having his hole filled. Dean was no longer able to control himself, his strong hands grabbed Castiel's hips and seized charge of the thrusting, upping the pace dramatically. Looking up to watch Castiel fall apart, Dean felt his heart break at the beauty he saw in the angel that was falling for him yet again.

Great, black, raven-like wings fell on either side of the pale man, white teeth bared as he panted through the sweat gathered on his brow, the soft lighting of the bunker's reading room casting a glow about his skin, or maybe it was his grace. "C-Cas, your...your _wings,_ " Dean breathed in awe. Castiel whined, wriggling against him, "Please, Dean, I need more." Suddenly Dean wasn't interested in trying to decide if it was grace or light, or if he was hallucinating the wings he was seeing, what he really wanted, right now, more than anything, was to watch those sweet pink lips cry out his name in unintelligible ecstasy. Leaning forward, Dean flattened his tongue and dragged it languidly over one of Castiel's nipples, keeping a hand on the small of Castiel's back as the angel leaned back to thrust himself with more force. Feeling tension growing between his thighs, the hunter used his free hand to pump Castiel's dick with a firm grip and quick pace. Leaking precum as his orgasm built to a crescendo, Castiel felt Dean slip a calloused thumb over the head of his cock, brushing the sensitive slit. Grunting as he slammed himself down onto Dean's dick, the head hitting his walls harshly but somehow perfectly, Castiel felt his climax break upon them both like an avalanche. 

"Dean, I-" his voice broke before he could complete his thought, thankfully he didn't have to. Dean pulled Castiel back to lean against him, wings resting on either side of the couch, hanging over the arm rests. "It's okay, baby, cum for me." He whispered against Castiel's mouth as they panted. Being called Dean's favorite pet name was the final nail in the proverbial coffin, Castiel's voice raising in pitch as he moaned and wound his fingers tightly in Dean's hair, his thick, hot sperm spilling onto Dean's hand and both their stomachs. Sitting in silence, panting as the two sweat covered men tried to catch their breaths, Castiel felt a flutter of fear and doubt come from somewhere, but at the moment he couldn't tell which one of them it was from. 

Before any further thought on the subject could be had, Dean carefully lifted Castiel off his lap and laid him back on the couch, Dean positioning himself as the big spoon. Gingerly placing his arm to prevent weight pinning Castiel's wing, the hunter settled the angel against his chest and buried his nose in the black curls of the angel's vessel. Muscular arms surrounding Castiel, he felt a penetrating sense of comfort in his grace, something that had been missing a piece was now whole. "You can see my wings partially because of our bond, partially because I was too distracted to keep them hidden with my grace." The angel explained through panting breathes. Dean smiled, "I like 'em." They settled against each other and lay in silence for several more minutes. Until Castiel broke it again, "I like when you call me baby." He said against Dean's chest, the thin hairs tickling his nose. Dean laughed, "You always know how to break a silence, Cas." Dean tilted Castiel's head up and nearly lost himself gazing into the blue abyss. The abyss gazed back, "Thank you, Dean. I know casual sex is common place among humans but it's much more pleasurable with someone you care about." Castiel added. Dean let his eyes fall shut, " _Thats_ was not casual, Cas." He said matter-of-factly. Castiel glanced up at him with a confused look, "I thought courtship was required for it to be a meaningful act of commitment?" Slowly feeling sleep pulling him into the dark, Dean smiled, "We might as well be married at this point, Cas. I was just marking my territory," Castiel squinted at the conscious-fading man before glanced down at himself, seeing bruises and hickies in more places than he cared to count. Castiel smiled against Dean's chest, letting himself drift into a comfortable nap as well.

Neither of them stirred when Sam arrived soon after, fretting for Castiel's well-being until he saw where the angel had ended up. With a quiet scoff, Sam smiled and decided to entertain himself elsewhere in the bunker while the two got their rest.


End file.
